Two Stars
by skyofpie
Summary: Ally Dawson lives in the middle of nowhere. And for almost as long as she can remember, she's never been anywhere. So when she's abruptly taken to Miami against her will, she automatically hates it. That's before Austin Moon, of course.
1. Prologue

Some things. First of all, this website confuses me so much. I'm honestly not even sure if my story is going to like come out the right way. Sorry.

Secondly, I (in case you didn't get this from before) am completely and totally like one hour new to this website, so I'm sorry if I do anything wrong in my writing, I don't know any better.

Thirdly, this is kind of different from any fanfiction I've written before. Good and bad. Bad because the Auslly doesn't come in for like three chapters (sorry again), so bear with me.

I know my life is different from most sixteen year-olds. I know that while my mom has taught me nearly every tidbit of knowledge I have, most kids just sit in classrooms, surrounded by other students. I know that while I like to run deep into the woods, sing to the trees, and hear my voice echo back softly, most sixteen year olds just go to the mall.

I knew I was different. I knew that no one else would understand my way of life. But I didn't realize just how different I was.

My sister is named after a city. I got lucky, with my very average, four letter name. But I kid you not, my sister is named Raleigh. Capitol of North Carolina. With a name like that, I almost don't blame her for leaving us once she turned eighteen, a year ago. But I know that the real reason she escaped Summer Grove was to find my dad.

I have memories of him. But such meaningless ones, eating dinner, watching early-morning cartoons. We moved here, in with my mom's parents, eleven years ago. Every day for more than a month after we pulled into the driveway that first time, boxes big and small crowded into the minivan, I asked my mother,

"Where's Daddy?" And she'd answer with,

"He's on his way, Ally." The same thing every day. The same false hope. The same false answer. Eventually, I stopped asking. I was five, not stupid. I wonder what she'd tell me if I asked now.

It's a good thing we had my grandparents business. They owned acres and acres of orchards; cherries, peaches, plums. Now that my grandmother is dead, my mom owns it. Someday, I suppose, it will be passed on to me.

Grandpa used to help down in the orchards, but he's too old now, his back too stiff. He stays inside, managing all of the boring paperwork, regarding where our fruit gets shipped, who pays for it, stuff like that. We have workers too; they do the majority of the picking. I help on most days, sometimes taking some fruit for myself to eat. No one stops me, everyone knows me.

Our home is perfect. Nestled in a corner of the Grove, it's like a hidden place, just for my family. My grandpa built it himself, fifty-five years ago. There are bedrooms enough for four people. Grandpa, Mom, me (Raleigh used to share my room), and my ten year-old brother Eli. He also managed to avoid my parents "Let's Name Our Child after a City" phase.

Once you come to Summer Grove, there's little chance of getting out. My sister literally biked her way to freedom. Five days a week for four years, she'd pedal a few miles to the nearest actual town, where she had a job. When she had enough money, and was old enough, she left. She was bored with our home, I guess. She writes once in awhile, taking pictures, telling me about the things we can't have here.

But seeing as I don't have a bike, and I'm not nearly as athletic as she was, as far as I'm concerned, I'm staying here.

It's not like I mind or anything. Ninety-nine percent of my best memories are here. This is all I've ever known. There's routine. I truly love organization. Maybe that's why I love the rows and rows of trees, all planted precisely where they belong. And I'm simple minded. I'm frightened to even think of life outside of this place, the center of my happiness.

Then my cousins showed up.


	2. Chapter One

I sit peacefully in the center of my favorite part of the forest, a clearing where the trees have high branches, creating lots of space, protected from above by a giant canopy of leaves. There's a shallow creek running through the area, and several big boulders that I can sit on.

It's also the perfect place for music. Raleigh and mom got me a guitar for my twelfth birthday. It's my most prized possession. With a container of cherries I'd picked on the way, I was soaking in the beautiful sound. Music is truly my favorite thing in the world. It took me nearly two years to learn to play the guitar, all from reading the books Raleigh would occasionally check out for me from the library. I'm still not perfect, there's always stuff to learn. But I'm a lot better now.

The way the wind blows through the trees in the late spring goes very well with my guitar music. Or maybe it's just me; my fine-tuned ears can pick up nearly any sound in the forest. But then I hear a sound that does not fit in. A car horn honking, a horn I've never heard before. I stop singing, my hands stop playing.

I slowly stand, creeping away from my spot, until I reach the edge of the thick trees. I see a bright orange car in front of the house. The car is orange! I've never seen an orange car before. But to be fair, I've seen very few cars since living here.

A girl and her mom are walking up to my home. The girl is my height, but similarities end there. While my hair is wavy, chestnut brown, hers is straight, and nearly as orange as her car. Her clothes are considerably better than mine, but don't mistaken me for jealous. She's surely from somewhere with a cause to look pleasing, somewhere where people actually care about her appearance. Here, no one gives a second glance to what I wear. As long as I'm not like, you know, naked or anything, I'm fine. Never once has a person commented on my outfit. There's no point.

"What's her name again?" the girl asks. Her voice is higher pitched than mine. Not squeaky, but getting there. Not the best voice for singing, either.

"Ally," her mother answers, and I frown in surprise as I realize they're talking about me. "And Sabby? Try not to be too judgmental. This is the only life they know." Sabby? Now that is a strange name, even by my standards. She ties her bright hair back into a ponytail.

"Seriously? Then don't you think it's kind of mean to take her, them, away from all of this?" Panic fills my veins, my heart thumping rapidly. They're going to take me away? I don't even know these people! They're taking me away from the orchards, away from the forest, away from the biggest part of who I am? Away from my home?

Sabby's mom never gets to place an input, because then my mom opens the front door.

"Oh!" she says, her face nearly as panicked-stricken as mine must be. "Susan! Sabrina!" Well now her name makes sense. "You're early! Ally-she's not ready yet! I'll, um, I'll go get her. Eli!" she calls, and he comes running to the door. Mom looks out towards the woods, where she knows I always am. I duck behind a tree. My hands are shaking so badly, it's a good thing my guitar is hanging around my shoulder, or I would have dropped it.

I can't leave here. This is my whole life, nothing else matters more. Take away my books, my voice, my guitar, even. But not this.

I won't survive. One look at Sabrina, and I know it for a fact.

"Ally!" mom calls. I'm hidden. Usually when she calls, I know to come back to the house. But not this time. When I peer around the tree, at these strangers here to abduct me, I know I can't come out.

Then I look closer at Sabrina, and from a few yards away, I can see that she's staring back. She sees me, but says nothing, despite my mom's pleads. I have never, ever been more grateful. As I run in the opposite direction, I wonder why I'm so thankful towards her. She's the one dragging me out of here.

I end up where I was before, which isn't smart, because this will make it easier for my mom to find me. I'm nearly always at this spot. I angrily kick the cherry bucket, and while I do regret it, out of spite, I don't clean them up.

I start to strum my guitar, though I know this will pinpoint now exactly where I am. Sure enough, a couple of minutes later, she comes. She takes in the spilled fruit, but doesn't brush upon the subject.

"Ally. I called you so many times. We have company."

"I know." So many things I want to shout at my mother, but I can't bring myself to. Instead, I can't help bursting into tears.

"I don't want to leave here! You can't make me!" Mom sighs.

"Ally, it's only for a couple of months." This makes me feel slightly better, yet I still can't imagine living anywhere but here.

"But-"I sniffle, "why?"

"Look, hon. Grandpa isn't feeling so well. You and Eli are just gonna go live with Sabrina and her mom, in the city a few hours away, until he gets better."

"Who is she?"

"She's your cousin." I didn't know Grandpa was sick. I didn't know I had any cousins. How many more secrets, I wonder, is my mother keeping from me?


	3. Chapter Two

I don't want my newfound cousin to notice that I've been crying. Something about Sabrina makes me certain that doing so I'd embarrass myself.

The way she walks, the way she talks, the way she holds herself so proudly, it all tells me that she's the kind of girl who has a million friends, who everyone looks up to. Even just from reading, I can easily identify which clique she belongs in. I know she's popular.

And I know I won't be.

My mother introduces my cousin, who Eli is already firing off questions at. Does she have any siblings, how old is she, why is her hair so orange if her moms hair isn't? I can't help but envy him a little. We're being uprooted to another state who knows how far away, which may as well be a parallel universe, and all he cares about is her hair. He doesn't worry like I do. He doesn't really know what it's like, to speak into the trees and be sure, though I can't hear them, that in a way, they're talking back.

He won't be as lost in society as I am. He's lucky.

"Ally," my mother says, shaking me lightly. I realize that Sabrina has her hand outstretched to shake mine. I take it hurriedly.

"So you're Ally," she muses. "Hi! I guess you're going to be living with us for awhile." I nod absently. She's nice, definitely perky. But I don't want perky. I want home.

Apparently Sabrina and Susan are staying here overnight. I guess wherever they're from is too far to drive back to today. Plus, I'm not packed yet. Mom tells me that I can take one large suitcase and a smaller backpack. She'll also entrust me with some money in case me or Eli needs anything once we're there.

I put as many of my folded clothes as will fit in the suitcase, my two pairs of shoes, and stuff from the bathroom. In the backpack I place a few of my favorite books. And I have _the_ book. Where I write all of my music, thoughts, everything, all in these leather-bound pages.

Believe it or not, I have an iPod that my mom bought used for me in town, quite some time ago. Whatever songs were already on there are what I have now, it's not like there's network for adding more. I don't mind, though, I've become accustomed to these songs. Music is music.

My guitar! I need to bring it. There's no way I'll make it through a week otherwise.

"Ally…" Mom begins as I make my way downstairs, somehow managing to lug everything with me at once.

"Yes?" I say with a grunt as I put it all down, stacking the backpack on the suitcase by the front door.

"You don't…I don't think you need to bring your guitar with you." I literally freeze, the case hanging limply on my shoulder. My mother knows how much the guitar means to me. She's the one who paid for it!

"No." I think it might be the first time I've directly disobeyed her. She raises her eyebrows.

"No?"

"No," I repeat, wrapping my arms protectively around the case. "I'm taking it."

"Ally…" Her expression is pained. I am embarrassing her in front of our guests. Normally, I would sympathize, but today it just aggravates me even more. "I don't have time for this. It's not like you'll never see it again. Leave it here."

I can feel my face go red with fury.

"You're sending me off with these strangers, when I haven't stepped outside of five miles from here, for eleven years!" I'm oblivious to the rest of my family; I don't care if I'm insulting people who are right next to me. "If you're going to let my life be taken away, literally overnight, I'm at least going to take my guitar!" I snap.

The room is dead silent as I place the case next to my other luggage, and march back upstairs.

I'm about to slam my door as well, for extra drama, but I stop and turn when I hear my grandfather calling my name from his room across the hall.

I don't like to seem upset in front of him, especially since he's apparently ill, so I pull off a serene expression, though I'm ready to explode.

"I heard you shouting downstairs," is all he says as I enter. He's sitting in a chair in the corner of his room, waiting for me to explain.

"Oh…" I mumble, taking a seat at his desk. "Mom, uh, she didn't want me to bring my guitar…" It's a very feeble excuse to him, I can tell. I already know how he's going to respond.

"Bit of an overreaction, isn't it?" I don't speak, just stare at the ground.

"She's…she's letting them take me! I can't go anywhere!" I finally whisper. Grandpa shakes his head.

"Your mother has her reasons. And you children need to see the rest of the world. You won't go far if you can't be free."

"But-" I start, "I don't want to be free! I want to be _here_!" He doesn't understand either.

"I know you do. But there's nothing we can do." As he stands, I see pain in his eyes, pain I hadn't noticed before. I wonder how long it's been there. "Let's go downstairs, Ally-gator. It's your last dinner here for awhile. Make it special for me." He ruffles my hair as he passes me, and strolls downstairs. I don't want to follow, but I know I have to.

I don't want this night to be special. I want it to be like the thousands of other dinners I've had here, nothing different. No strange cousins eating with us. No knowing that tomorrow night's meal will be somewhere far away.

I don't remember a time I've held such a hostile expression, for so long. I keep silent throughout the entire meal. Sabrina greets me like I didn't throw a fit a few minutes earlier, but I only nod at her, and walk by. Anytime anyone tries to talk to me, I just shrug, and go back to scowling. Susan, Sabrina's mom, is looking at me like I'm some alien, with all my misbehaving. I feel like one. And _she's_ the one who told her daughter not to judge!

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. After dinner, everyone seems to know not to talk to me, even my sometimes clueless brother.

As I sulk on my bed, I sort of wish I hadn't made such a big deal over leaving my guitar downstairs with the rest of my stuff, because I desperately want to strum it now. Tears drip down my face. I just…don't know what…I'm going to do.

Eventually, my door opens, revealing Sabrina, ready for bed.

"Um…your mom said I could sleep in your room for the night," she informs tentatively. I nod my head towards Raleigh's old bed. "Night," she says as she turns out the light. I don't say anything for a few minutes.

"Goodnight, " I finally whisper into the darkness. And before I finally drift miserably to sleep, one last thought occurs to me.

I have not made this night special at all.


End file.
